Syn City

I spent the weekend in Las Vegas, attending the reunion of the school I went to in Japan in the early 60s. Zama American High School included grades 7-12; we left Japan after my freshman year and my brother's graduation. I have many, many fond memories of our time there.

The reunion comes around every two years and, unlike traditional reunions, welcomes anyone who ever went to the school, regardless of graduation year or whether one in fact graduated from Zama. Two years ago it was in San Francisco and I meant to go; four years ago it was in DC and I was in town, though not part of the reunion. I did manage to hook up with two women I had not seen in 47 years! It was a delight but, alas, neither came to Las Vegas.

In fact no one I was close to fifty years ago was there. My buddy Will, with whom I am in occasional contact, didn't make it and of course my friend Gary, who I have longed to see for five decades now was once again among the missing. I did chat with several of my brother's friends and met a handful of people, but I'm not great at the meet and greet stuff.

I'm much better at having a good time on my own, and the weekend gave me plenty of opportunity to do that. I saw two Cirque du Soleil shows: Kà at the MGM Grand and Love, the Beatles show, at the Mirage. They were both excellent. I especially loved hearing the Beatles music at very loud but perfectly clear volume and was also dazzled by the stage craft of both shows.

I rode the High Roller, the Vegas version of the London Eye. It was delightful and was the one time I truly felt relaxed with a bunch of Zama people I mostly did not know.

Las Vegas is a city of blistering sidewalks, and I walked them for blocks and blocks. I am mysteriously drawn to the fountains at the Bellagio. I truly do not understand it. I am something of a world traveler and I think of myself as jaded, but those damn fountains mesmerize me. I twice took the long hike in 90+ heat to have a look.

Another thing that mesmerizes me is the parade of Americans one sees in Las Vegas. Wow, are we a fat culture! And boy, was taste given out sparingly when most of us were born. May I say this to many of the men I saw: Hawaiian shirts are NOT meant to be tucked in. They are meant to flow loosely, evoking the breezy island life. And about t-shirts with stupid writing on them I offer Fran Lebowitz's immortal words, "Most people don't want to talk to YOU. What makes you think they want to hear from your clothes?"

On previous trips I have taken advantage of Las Vegas's well deserved reputation as a fantastic food destination. I remember wonderful meals Ransom and I had at Aqua in the Bellagio and Renoir at the Mirage and solo stops at Spago and Commander's Palace. None of that this trip. I ate cheap Mexican, late night pizza, a scrambled egg crepe and the very best Palmier ever at Jean-Phillipe, but no sit-down expensive outings. Just not the same when I'm alone.

I'm glad I went, I'm glad I faced my fears about going and I really felt the pain of having lost touch with so much of my past.

Gary Winston, it's been 51 years since I've seen you

and still I miss you a lot!